


Rockwell

by EMason



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Because that is always good, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, FBI Watching Me AU, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), I might get carried away, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, NOT DISCONTINUED, On Hiatus, Pining Keith (Voltron), This fic is mainly for the meme, klance, who knows - Freeform, write the fanfic you wish to see in the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMason/pseuds/EMason
Summary: When Keith Kogane is offered an elite position at the FBI he thinks it’d be stupid not to take it. He lives for action and adventure, and this is the big break he needs for his career. Little did he know, he was going to be stuck at a desk all day spying on people.His first assignment: Lance McClain.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I saw an opportunity and I took it.

The 21st century is a fascinating era. For the first time in recorded history, mankind is connected like never before. With the invention of the internet people can interact with each other within seconds from all across the globe. Thirty years ago the internet was just an addition to everyday life, something to make seeking information more efficient. Now it is nearly impossible to imagine life without it.

However, this marvelous invention isn’t without consequences. With more access to information comes danger. All of our information is stored on our computers, phones, tablets, or the mystery that is the cloud. Hackers can infiltrate that information and use it for whatever they please. Therefore, the government uses this fear in order to justify actions that may or may not infringe upon our civil liberties. Legislation that allows the government to throw people into less than humane conditions if they are labeled a ‘threat.’ No representation, no phone call, no nothing. Some people object; they protest or write articles about the injustice. Most of this is generally ignored. A majority of citizens just allow this to go on, all in the name of protection.

This is just the things we know, freedom of information and all that jazz. But… what about the stuff we don’t know about? Secret acts the government don’t want its citizens to know about; covert opts that would never make the evening news. What then? What if the government was able to watch every move you make? Your daily run, hours in the library researching for your latest project, even your late night Netflix binges. All of it. How would the public react? Well the answer to that is simple: not well. That is why government secrets remain secret. Chaos would consume the nation. The people involved in these secrets live secluded lives. The risk of their occupational details getting out is far too great for average civilian life. This is the ideal, but it’s only an ideal. Human beings are social creatures, and it only takes a certain someone to break that wall of isolation. For Keith Kogane, that someone was a beautiful Cuban boy, with eyes bluer than Microsoft Word.


	2. I’m Just An Average Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say the first day at your dream career is the first day of the rest of your life. Make it count. As Keith makes his way to his new job at the FBI, he wonders if his days here are limited.

**Day: January 1st**  
**Year: 2024**  
**Objective: First Day at FBI**

 

 

 

Every morning for Keith Kogane began the same. He would wake up at 0400 hours, exercise, shower, get dressed, and make his way out the door. It was the same routine he had since he was 13 years old, and he’s quite the creature of habit.  
Once the alarm went off any chance of sleep evaded Keith. It was his first day at his new job with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He’d been at Quantico for 20 weeks for basic FBI training, and an additional 3 weeks for specialization practices. At this point Keith was itching for something new and exciting. As he got up to put on his running attire he thought about what his new job was going to be like. He was a gifted student at Quantico, in both academics and physical training. His mentors showered him with praise as the other students gawked in envy.

  
He was hot shit and he knew it.

  
It wasn’t too far of a stretch for Keith to succeed in Quantico. His brother Takashi Shirogane, commonly known as Shiro, was the FBI’s golden boy when he was Keith’s age. However, Keith made it his mission not to live in Shiro’s shadow. He was going to work harder and surpass any record Shiro placed before him, and he did exactly that. The day Keith graduated from Quantico, Shiro was the one who gave the commencement speeches, and it took every ounce of his strength not to cry on stage. The amount of pride Shiro had for his little brother truly shined that day. Not only did Keith graduate top of his class, he also had an immediate job offering as well. He was going to be a member of the most prestigious and secretive section of the FBI known as the Garrison unit.

 

 

The Garrison unit is a branch of the FBI that has some of the highest security clearances in the bureau. Not even Shiro knew what went on there. It was a complete mystery to Keith, and it only added to the excitement. Throughout his morning routine Keith fantasized of what he was going to be doing for the Garrison. Hundreds of different scenarios bounced around his head as he finished his 5 mile run. Was he going to infiltrate a drug cartel smuggling cocaine? Perhaps go undercover and stop domestic terrorist units? Or something even more exciting? The possibilities were endless.

  
Keith’s run took a bit longer than planned, so he had to rush through the rest of his morning process. A quick shower, suit and tie, and a protein shake all had to be down within a 30 minute span. Keith worked well under pressure, so it only took him 20 minutes to get it all done. He fed his beloved tabby cat, Hibiscus, her favorite flavor of Fancy Feast and was out the door. He rushed down the stairs two steps at a time to get to the parking garage of his apartment complex, the rush of anticipation bubbling under his skin.

  
He hopped on his trusted Triumph Bonneville and sped off towards the Garrison. The candy apple red paint shined in the morning sunlight as Keith dodged through the early bird traffic. Keith had this bike his entire life, and it was his most prized possession. It sat in a storage unit virtually untouched for a decade till he was finally able to legally ride it; albeit he did sneak off to ride it once or twice in his early teens. It was the only thing Keith had in this with world that connected him to his father. A man he knew would have given anything to see how far Keith had come if he had the chance. Keith wished his father could have been there to see him graduate. The man always had high hopes for his only son. It has been over a decade since… that day.

  
That all too familiar feeling washed over Keith as he sat in front of the third red light on his commute. His pulse started to race, with a heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders. Keith didn’t think about his father too often, but when he did it picked at the scab he wished would finally heal inside himself. Keith’s hands began to dampen as he squeezed the handles of his bike. He briefly closed his eyes and wished for the panic to disappear.

  
“Change to green, change to green..” Keith repeated to himself.

  
Sweat started to drench the collar of Keith’s shirt, his tie squeezing his throat as he sat at the light. The rusted up pick up truck beside him started to shake, a quick bang of the exhaust made him nearly jump out of his skin. Keith didn’t wait for the light to change before he raced through the intersection, praying that law enforcement didn’t pull him over on his first day at the FBI.

 

  
After a few miles of speeding through Naxzela Drive, Keith finally arrived at his destination. The building itself was pretty unremarkable, despite its massive size. From Keith’s view from the street, he could see a seven story building with scattered greenery around the front entrance. The building itself was designed with a brutalist esque architecture, with sharp simplistic angles and no hint of ornery. The bricks consisted of a terra-cotta color; despite the warm tone of the brick the structure itself exudes only intimidation. If you didn’t already know what this building was, there would be no way of knowing otherwise. The only indication that this was a government building was a plaque beside the security kiosk that stated **Federal Building G.**  
Keith pulled up to the security kiosk and was met with a fairly stocky man at the window. The man himself looked pretty average in height, around 5’8 or 5’9. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, with a 5 o’clock shadow covering his double chin.

  
“Hello?” Keith questioned.

  
The man with the name tag _C. Kaltenecker_ didn’t bother looking in Keith’s general direction. He just pressed one of the many buttons on his console and opened the large metal gates.

  
“ _Some security guard…_ ” Keith thought to himself as he drove through the parking lot entrance. All Keith wanted was the first day of the rest of his life to go smoothly. Was that too much to ask for?

 

  
Apparently so.

  
As Keith wandered through the labyrinth of halls in Federal Building G, he sought out someone of importance. There was no sense of purpose to the design of the building. When Keith walked through the front door there was no lobby to be seen. A person only had two options upon entering Federal Building G, a right turn or a left turn. Keith chose the left. The hallway consisted of beige linoleum flooring and eggshell walls, fluorescent light evenly spaced on the ceiling. There were no doors for as far and he could see, only endless walls of white. After what felt like an hour, Keith began to notice a mild curve on the flooring steering him towards the left. It appeared as if he was walking in a giant circle, and after a few more steps the front entrance door became visible again.

  
“ _What the fuck…_ ” Keith’s frustration grew as he saw the door heading towards the parking lot he just came from. Keith made two more laps before he started to lose his temper.

  
“This is fucking ridiculous” Keith mumbled as he reached for his phone. He began to dial Shiro’s number before he realized that he had no service in the building.

  
“ _Amazing, incredible, just what I need…_ ” Keith thought to himself. He was going to be late if he couldn’t find a way into the building. He walked outside to find that the security guard was no longer at post. He jogged over towards the kiosk, hoping to find a way to contact his supervisor. The only information he had on his new job was the address and the name of his new boss: Iverson. That was it. No phone number, no email, no nothing. Once Keith made it to the kiosk he looked around the parking lot to make sure C. Kaltenecker wasn’t around.

 

“ _Coast is clear._ ” Keith went to open the door to find it locked. He jimmied the handle but alas, no dice. Keith tried to call Shiro again, but all he could hear was the error dial tone on the other end. He took a step back to evaluate his options. At that moment Keith found he could either:

  
(A) Leave and miss out on a major career opportunity. He threw that option out immediately.

  
Or

  
(B) Break the window of the kiosk and try to contact someone. Then he thought about possible prison time for damaging federal property, so that was a no go.

 

Keith looked at the building again. On the east side of it he noticed that one of the windows were open on the third floor. He ran towards the side of the building, each of its corners had bricks that were indented on the walls making a makeshift ladder. Keith pushed up the sleeves of his suit coat and made his ascent up the wall, trying his best not to scuff up his appearance too much. He still had to make a good impression. 

Once he made it to the third story, he realized he underestimated the distance between the pseudo brick ladder and the actual window. From where Keith stood it was approximately a 4.5 ft distance to the ledge of the windowsill, and if he missed his target he was about 30 ft from landing on the cold unforgiving cement. Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing his body for impact. The words of his brother rang in his head.

  
“ _Patience yields focus..._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two!! Sorry it took so long to put up, senioritis is real even outside of high school. I hope you guess enjoyed this, I wanted to upload it before season 5 is released! 
> 
> Anyway I thought I should add a link to my VLD Tumblr page:
> 
> http://kth-kgn.tumblr.com
> 
> Shoot me an ask and we can gush about the new season!


	3. With An Average Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Lance’s best intentions, New Year’s Day isn’t going according to plan.

_January 1st, 2024._   
_Daily Horoscope for Leo: Entering the new year brings upon new stressors in your life. Remember to take time for yourself; perhaps with a cup of tea or an at home spa day. You will need to reserve your strength, for big change is on the horizon._

Lance McClain’s new year resolution was to rise with the sun; start the day with a relaxing yoga session and some meditation. He wished to align his chakras, become one with the universe, and all the other stuff suburban white moms talk about over their daily wheatgrass shot. Anything that could help him get his shit together this year Lance was gonna try it. It’s only the first day of 2024 and he is already failing at accomplishing his new goal, miserably. It’s 11:37 am and Lance’s wake up call is banging on the door of his studio apartment.   
“Lance it’s time to wake up! I’m gonna be late for work!”   
“Piiiiiiiiiiiiidge stop your banging. I have a pounding headache already and you’re not helping” Lance groaned.  
“It’s not my fault that you stayed up to the ass crack of dawn destroying your liver. Now come on, I don’t have all day”

Lance shoved his head underneath the mountain of pillows he had on his bed, all in a failed attempt to drown out the noise of Pidge’s tiny fists. After a few moments silence returned once more to his apartment, there was peace in the world.  
“LANCE!!” Pidge yelled as she slammed the door. Lance rolled off his bed with a hard thud on the ground, his entire body tangled within his plush down comforter.   
Yea, it was gonna be a rough day.   
“How the hell did you get into my apartment?” Lance questioned. He  
began to untangle himself from his blanket cocoon as Pidge rummaged through his closet.  
“You’re apartment keys were on the ground in front of your door. Honestly Lance, someone is gonna break into your apartment one day and shoot you dead. Then I’ll have to see your mug on the 11 o’clock news with the head line ‘Local dumbass perishes in robbery gone wrong.’ You’ll be a PSA special to warn kids about locking your doors”   
She threw Lance one of the sweaters his grandma knitted him for Christmas, along with a pair of old ripped up jeans, completely ignoring the look of exaggerated hurt on his face.

“You and I both know my face is my best feature. Channel 3 would be so lucky to have my gorgeous presence on their screens. Their ratings would boost ten fold! And besides, no one is gonna wanna mess with me with these guns!” Lance flexed his arm muscles in Herculean esque fashion, Greek gods of old be damned.

Pidge snorted as she went into the small bathroom in search of some medicine for her hungover friend. She rummaged through all of Lance’s half empty skin care containers; the boy was in serious need of some spring cleaning.   
“Dark Angels, Rosy Cheeks, Enzymion.. Jesus Lance do you spend your entire stipend at Lush?”   
“Skin care is self care young padawan. Need to keep this mug lookin gorgeous for my debut on local true crime television” Lance replied as he finished getting dressed. If he needed to shave off a couple hundred dollars from his PhD grant to maintain his sanity then so be it; the Humanities department was more than generous with their budget.

  
Lance McClain was one of the lucky few to be granted a fellowship from Altea University. Out of hundreds who applied to their English Literature program, he was one of only ten students to get in. During Lance’s undergraduate years he initially majored in Astrophysics; he wanted to follow his passion for exploring worlds unknown. However, Lance soon realized he wasn’t as gifted in the theoretical math and science classes as he had hoped.

The first semester of Lance’s freshman year was the most difficult time in his academic career. He was left disheartened with a 1.9 GPA, his dreams crushed, and overwhelming urge to drop out. When the Spring semester came around Lance had all but given up on graduating college like the rest of his siblings. However, this changed when he walked into his Creative Writing class.

It was here where Lance met Dr. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, the head of Altea University’s English department. Despite being the head honcho of his field, Coran loved teaching lower level English classes. On the first day of every class he taught he’d say:  
“With all of mankind’s amazing technological advances, there is one thing that   
will always be considered the best thing humanity has to offer, and that is Literature. If we can imagine a better world in our fiction, it gives us the tools to try and turn it into fruition!”

It was that day that Lance dropped all of his science classes and switched them all to English. If he wasn’t going to be able to physically explore the universe, then he was going to create his own. From then on Lance aced all of his classes with a space on the Dean’s list every semester.

Despite his rocky start, Lance graduated Summa Cum Laude from Altea University. He had an overall 3.75 GPA, a nearly flawless GRE score, and a glowing recommendation from Dr. Smythe himself. When Lance was accepted into Altea’s doctorate program the first thing he did was run into Coran’s office and gave him the biggest bear hug he could muster. Both men cried tears of happiness that day, and Coran offered to be his doctoral advisor. It was easily the best day of Lance’s life.

  
However, today is starting out to be one of Lance’s worst. Every slam of a cabinet door was like a sledgehammer to his skull. Lance’s apartment wasn’t that big, and the acoustics amplified every sound in the room.   
“Found it!” Pidge shouted from inside the bathroom.   
Lance groaned as he made his way to the kitchen to start on breakfast, rubbing his temples in a poor attempt to ease his pain. As he scooped the Café Bustelo into the stovetop espresso maker, Pidge filled up a glass of water aspirin in hand.  
“How many do you want?”  
“Is the whole bottle an option?”   
Pidge shook her head as she took two pills out of the bottle and handed them over to Lance. He popped the aspirin into his mouth and chugged the glass of water, silently praying to every deity he could think of to end his suffering.  
“Not unless you want to die”  
“At the moment death would be a welcomed release” Lance scoffed, but the end result was humorless. He turned over to look at his friend only to see concern painted on her face.   
“You know I’m kidding right?” Lance questioned as he turned the heat off the coffee maker. He began searching for a couple mugs and some sugar as Pidge stood in silence. Lance could feel the tension in the room and wished he just kept his mouth shut. Self deprecating humor wasn’t usually his forte, but those were the thoughts plaguing his mind recently.  
“Hey Lance?”  
“Yea Pidgeotto?”   
“When I joke around with you, you know I’m kidding right? If you were gone I honestly don’t know what I’d do…”

Lance refused to meet Pidge’s eye; an unwelcome heaviness filled the air. Despite acting tough all the time she was still a pretty sensitive girl.   
“Of course I do Pidgey, playful banter is what I do best. I know you care about me just as much I care about you. You’re like the little sister I never had” Lance smiled as he  
poured the coffee in both mugs.

He was about to put in the sugar before he felt two arms wrap around his middle. Pidge smushed her face into Lance’s side and squeezed. He let out soft chuckle as he messed his hands through her overgrown pixie cut.  
“Besides, if I weren’t around how would you get to work? Would that be the catalyst to you finally getting a license?”   
Pidge scoffed as she detached from Lance, her hands curled into fists on her hips.  
“Lance I’m a lesbian” Pidge deadpanned.  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
“I can’t drive”  
Lance rolled his eyes as he handed a cup over to her.  
“That’s no excuse. I like people of the same gender and I can drive!”  
“Ah but you’re bisexual. You can drive but you can’t park to save your life. That’s the catch” Lance hummed in agreement. He barely passed his road test at 16 because he couldn’t parallel park correctly. Luckily the test proctor was an old friend of his mother’s, so he let it slide.

As the two of them finished their coffee, the most important lady in Lance’s life (after his Mama) waltzed into the kitchen.   
“And how’s my wonderful lady doing this morning?” Lance questioned with a purr.  
“You know she’s just a cat right? She can’t talk”  
With that Lance’s Russian Blue, appropriately named Azula, meowed in response. She hopped onto the counter Lance was leaning on and rubbed her face into the crook of his elbow.  
“Don’t listen to her beautiful. She’s just jealous her cat isn’t as affectionate as you are” Lance whispered as he scratched Azula’s ears.   
“Olive is perfectly affectionate thank you very much! And so is Rover! Now hurry up and get your shoes on. My shift starts in half an hour.”

Pidge snatched the nearly empty coffee mug from Lance’s hand, and rinsed both of them off. She made her way to the front door to grab Lance’s keys as he rushed to follow her.  
“You made fun of me for talking to my cat and yet you believe a robot has feelings? In what universe does that make sense!”  
Pidge didn’t dignify that question with a response. She grabbed her coat and backpack and made her way out the door, with Lance tripping down the hallway putting on his shoes.   
“Don’t forget to lock your door this time!” Pidge shouted from the stairwell.  
Lance turned around and rushed back to lock the door. He didn’t want to add a robbery on top of his already shit day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late, college is sucking all the energy out of me lately. I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! I think I’m going to keep switching POV between in each chapter. So next time you’ll see how Keith is doing!
> 
> Also season 5???? So good.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not an expert on the FBI and don’t claim to be one. I was inspired by a post on tumblr about an “fbi agent watching me soulmate au” and I noticed there weren’t really any fics on this subject... so i decided to write one. However there aren’t any soulmates in this, sorry. 
> 
> This is also my first piece of fan fiction for the Voltron fandom, so I hope you like this! I don’t know how frequently I will update (college is killing me), but hopefully it won’t be too far apart.


End file.
